Flashes: Glimpses of the Past
by Aarati
Summary: Find out how Harry and Draco got together and what led to their end. Drarry! Beware: Stubborness and hat-madness Prequel to 'A Dragon's Heart"  both can be read separately
1. prelude

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. All in all, I don't own anything…I am basically a hobo. :P**

**A Small Rant: Alright, this is a prequel to 'A Dragon's Heart'. WhOOOPP…And it's weird because the sequel was written before the prequel…I find that out of sorts but oh well. uhh…it's not beta'ed..so there will probably be a lot of mistakes. But I do want a beta..sooo….who wants that post? Any way, this story is going to jump time periods—really, whatever hits my mood will happen. So, enjoy!**

**Oh P.S. Please review..good things, bad things, funny things, stupid things, any opinion you have of this story or of the world in general is welcome…**

**Flashes: Glimpses of the Past**

**Prelude( or epilogue): Breakup**

Harry didn't care. He didn't bloody give a damn what Draco Malfoy did anymore.

He pulled at his already wild hair before disapparating again. Once he was in front of his apartment building in muggle London, he made his way to the home he had made after the war. And once again, his anger flared. How dare he? Who did Draco Malfoy think he was, to treat Harry that way? Harry was way past the days of sullen depression and self-hate and he believed that he had done nothing to warrant that kind of behavior from anyone, especially his own boyfriend.

At the thought of the said boyfriend, his magic flared, ready to lash out. Too busy drowning in his anger, he didn't notice his out of control magic. He also didn't notice the poor muggle stumble at the sight of a young man with dark unruly hair, nice fashionable glasses wearing some sort of dress. The muggle stood stock still as light seemed to radiate from the man, burning anyone who laid eyes on him with its harsh rays. And the muggle promptly fainted. Good thing for Harry that when the muggle woke up, he dismissed his memory as a hallucination. His exact words were, "I can't already be going crazy, can I?"

Harry, still lost in his intense emotions, went up to his apartment, packed up clothes and necessities and changing out of his wizarding outfit, he also packed the wad of money he had got exchanged at Diagon Alley and promptly disapparated out again. He was so tired of London.

"What did you just do, Draco?"

Draco watched with caution as his mother stepped towards him, danger written in her every move. He looked to his father for help, but the cold bastard just shrugged as if to say 'your problem'.

"Mother," He started to say something, anything but was interrupted by the cold voice of his best friend, Pansy Parkinson.

"No excuses, Dray."

He looked around at the people who he thought would support him in his decisions to end his relationship with Harry.

"Why are you all hounding me? I did what I wanted to do. The relationship we had would have never worked out in the long run. Anyway, what I said was true-"

"A fling? To you, the months you shared with Harry were nothing but a fling?" His mother cut him down to the bone.

Before he could reply, his father spoke up, "Draco, I do believe I have taught you to be more polite than that. A Malfoy doesn't act as such." I am disappointed was written all over his face. Then his father strolled out of the sitting room.

His mother followed after, although stopping to say, "I hope you did the right then, for your sake. And even thought I do think you made one of the worst mistakes of your life, you are my son and I will stand by your decision and say not a word more."

"Thank you—"

"Don't thank me, you insolent child. I will stand by you but do not ask for anymore from me. And I am glad you let your intent be shown so soon into relationship, if he had fallen in any deeper, you could have pushed him over the edge." Then she left the room with a quiet dignity no one else could manage.

Draco turned to Pansy, "Pans—"

"Draco, you are so stupid and one day will realize this and I will be there to be 'I told you so' but for now I will complain silently."

"Pansy, I want children and I don't love him do I?"

She smiled and Draco knew it meant something, something he couldn't quite guess but it was sad and almost pitying.

"Then, I hope you find love, Dragon. A better love than what Harry offered to you."

He wanted to say something, what could he say to that?

"Now get yourself cleaned up, you look horrible."

And right at the moment, Draco felt intense pain on his side. He looked down and realized that Harry must have hit him with some curses that tried to cut and slice him up.

"What curses did he get me with?"

"I really don't know. I mean, he didn't even have his wand out when curses began shooting at you but they were non-verbal. We should take you to St. Mungos."

"Alright," He groaned as he felt a stabbing of pain bursting through his right foot.

He could go out into the world to find love after this. And he was going to be happy.

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**And if you don't like that song above, you can also complain about it in the review you are going to type soon. :P**


	2. Beware the thinkingaboutmalfoy Chair

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, stop rubbing it in!**

**A Small Rant: The next chapter or so are going to be like this. If you have an idea for a scene to happen, I am open to all sorts of ideas. Oh and don't forget to review, I will take everything you guys say with a grain of salt yea?**

**Flashes: Glimpses of the Past**

**Chapter 1: Eighth Year and a New Beginning**

"Well Potter, what do you want?"

Harry held out the box topped with a red bow, "Here you go, Malfoy." When Malfoy just looked at the box skeptically, Harry continued, "It is yours after all."

Then Molfoy's eyes blazed and burned as if Christmas had come quite early.

"Is that my wand then?" Harry could see that his hands were itching to rip away the last minute bow and open the box.

"What else of yours have I taken?" Harry asked in jest, not knowing that maybe a few days later Malfoy would use that same excuse to start a conversation. When all Malfoy did was stare at the box, Harry took action himself and opened the box to reveal the Howthorne wand, gleaming with magic of its own.

Harry watched as Malfoy took the wand out and tried to find a comfortable hold. He watched as the fire in Malfoy's eyes was sated. He watched as a small smile was borne on Malfoy's lips. And he couldn't help but smile in return. After all, there was nothing—no one—to stop him from doing anything he wanted.

After all, he was free, of Voldemort's insanity, of Dumbledore's manipulations, of his own pressing obligation.

"Why are you smiling like an idiot, Potter?"

"I am happy."

"Why?"

"You are happy also, right?"

With that Harry left, with a wave of his hand and a smile lighting up his eyes, he had left behind a very confused Draco Malfoy, who despite having sworn many times that he couldn't stand to be near the Golden boy, was now very eager to see the same smile directed at him again.

"Malfoy!" Harry Potter gasped out as he almost tripped over a non-existent rock which lay on his path.

"Potter!" Draco Malfoy barked, amused at the lack of balance on the other boy's part, "What have you done with my wand?"

"Your wand? I have done—"

"Where are your glasses?"

"What?"

"Glasses. You know the disgusting out of fashion thing that usually hangs on your face?"

"It's—"

"Aren't you blind without them?"

"I—"

"Can you see me Potter?" Draco waved his hands in front of Harry's face.

"Alright, who gave you chocolate frogs?"

"Don't ignore my questions." Draco demanded.

Harry sighed, yet again, "I don't need my glasses anymore. I got myself to the optometrist."

"You put your eyes under the wand?"Harry watched the normally composed Slytherin bounce around him, asking him questions.

He smiled, "Yes, Malfoy, I did. And it didn't hurt. But the spell just has to be re-cast every year or so—"

"And you don't understand why it can't be fixed permanently."

"Yess..."

They made their way around the lake. Harry smiling at the excited Malfoy and Malfoy hopping around Harry like an over excited bunny on Easter. Yes, the other would regret ever eating chocolate frogs but Harry intended to savor this moment of peace and what felt like to him a start of a new friendship—at least until Draco Lucius Malfoy got off his high.

"Potter, how are you so unlearned?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh, "I'm sure you'd like to tell me just why my eyes can't be fixed permanently."

"They can, you just don't know how," came the smug reply.

"Thanks, Potter."

Harry stared at his classmate for a while or two. He couldn't believe that Malfoy—Draco Malfoy—would ever express his thanks to him. "What?"

"Nothing." The blond spun around and walked away.

Before he got too far, Harry said after him, "thanks, Malfoy." His voice echoed in the silent hallway.

The other boy slowed down, but didn't stop.

"Thanks for letting me borrow your wand."

Malfoy didn't stop, he didn't turn back around to face Harry, he didn't repe3at his words but the way he walked—not so stiffly now—Harry was sure that there was a small smile on his face.

"Harry, what—why—sitting there?" Ron asked, his face turning a not very fetching red.

Hermione turned to her boyfriend, "Ron, complete sentences please. And coherent too." She added as an after thought.

"But Hermione, Harry's summoned that—that chair and he's sitting on it." The last part of it was said with a quiet desperation.

Hermione Granger's eyes snapped up from her book "His thinking-about-Malfoy-chair?"

Ron nodded, not yet ready for another adventure.

Hermione put her book down completely, her eyes wide open. This was a serious matter; the presence of that chair didn't mean good things at all.

"Maybe , you saw wrong?" she ws hoping against hop.

"I wish." Ron plopped himself sown on a seat across from her, "But that chair is unmistakable. Why do you think he feels the need to conjure that chair again? Malfoy hasn't been acting weird at all."

Well, Hermione thought, Malfoy **was** acting a bit weird… She rubbed the bridge of her nose in thought. They had just finished the adventure of a life time (and she hoped there wouldn't be another one like it again_ and had just cleared their gloomy futures (the war was over and Voldie had moved on to another plane of existence). She had thought that maybe they could bask in the peace for the next few years—maybe ten. She had been looking forward to worrying about normal things like the next exam or Ron's wondering eyes (as if he could take his eyes off her—she smirked, just a little bit)or something else totally mundane. Anything was better than Harry summoning **that** chair. She bet Malfoy wasn't even doing anything suspicious; maybe it's just in his nature to e sneaking around Harry. Maybe Harry and she were just being paranoid again.

"I'm sure there is no reason. Maybe Harry just really likes that chair?"

"Yeah.." H sounded dubious of that fact. She knew he was going to worry so she leaned over, grabbed his head and planted her lips on top of his. He pulled her on top of him, lifting her by her small waist. Ron loved kisses and Hermione loved distractions.

They would ask Harry about what exactly he was thinking sitting on that chair. But right now they were…preoccupied.

"Harry."

They had decided to confront him. They braced themselves and Ron reminded himself of what Hermione had said about showing a united front. He squeezed his beautiful girlfriend's hands and her lips which had turned into a hard line threatened to break. She absolutely hated doing this. But they knew they might have to be a little tough on their beloved friend; he always had been a little too obsessed with Malfoy but the feeling was mutual. They could tell.

"Hey guys!" Harry was all smiled. They hadn't been expecting this; at best they were expecting moody eyes and mumbles about evil gits and at worst they…well that was entirely up to Harry wasn't it?

"Harry, we had a question." Ron started awkwardly when Hermione didn't say anything.

"Ask away." The smile was back on; in fact it had never left his eyes.

"What's with the chair, mate? Ron continued on with his usual fashion when his girlfriend remained silent.

Harry blinked, as if confused, "It's my thinking chair, you know that."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. They didn't want to say, "it's your thinking-about-Malfoy chair to be exact.'

"So, what are you thinking about?"

He looked at them as if they were acting stupid, "You know it's my thinking-about-Malfoy chair." He said happily.

They stood there, shocked at his answer.

"Oh." They left as Harry went back to thinking.

As he watched his best mates walk away, dumfounded, he grinned. As if he didn't know what they called his beloved chair. And it really wasn't a thinking-about-Malfoy chair as much as his planning chair. He came up with the best pranks and strategies while sitting on him.

He couldn't be blamed. Some people had thinking hats, Harry had a thinking chair. And it was amazing!


	3. Beating desires into submission

**Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley would have possibly died in the second book. But apparently she's alive and thriving and has a bunch of children which are also Harry's…*sob*…so I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters or anything associated with it.**

**Chapter 2: Emerging Feelings and Beating Desires into Submission…**

"Harry, you know, Malfoy hasn't done anything too suspicious. Hell, I don't think there is even anything suspicious to do anymore except sneak out of school to party."

Harry watched amusedly as Hermione came close to ripping her delightfully caramel hair up.

"Language, Ms. Granger." He said, semi-seriously.

"Harry James Potter, don't try to change the subject."

Harry couldn't help but smile at her pose—one hand on hops and the other hand waggling threateningly in his general direction.

"Yes, Mother." He replied solemnly, trying to look sufficiently innocent.

She smiled too but didn't give up questioning, "Harry, tell meeee…"

Harry couldn't believe it, Hermione Granger was whining.

"I know he hasn't done anything too suspicious. And I'm not overtly analyzing on why he keeps on glancing at me every few seconds when I am in the same room as him or why keeps on alternating between trying to avoid me or trying to bump into me."

"You're not?" Did she believe him?

"I am a bit interested and intrigued by his weird behavior but I don't think he's planning the rise of the next Dark Lord."

"So why…"

"I happen to like this chair very much. I's really comfortable."

She smiled, relieved.

"Is it really that comfortable?"

"You don't believe me? Then come, sit on it." He grudgingly got off the chair as she settled her self on the big fluffy armchair.

"It really is comfy." She said as she closed her eyes and sighed contently.

"RON!" Harry screamed.

"What? What?" The red haired boy tumbled into the common room."

"Tell your blasted girlfriend to get off my chair!" Harry was putting and shouting at the same time. The worst was to come yet.

Ron sighed. There was going to be a bloody murder. And Harry wasn't the one going to die. And he was quite in love with his girlfriend. Somehow, he would have to get her off that chair.

"Potter, stop following me."

"Am I following you? I mean, we could be going the same way." Harry knew Draco hated it when he was logical…and that's why Harry tried to act rational around him. Not that it worked much; the emotions they provoke in each other just get in the way.

"Fine. You walk ahead."

Harry shot the other boy—no, young man—a smile as he passed him. They weren't boys any longer.

After a few minutes of walking, Harry peered back at the path he had taken and barely held back a smile as he spied a shadow slanting behind from a bush. He snorted, who was following who now?

He turned around suddenly, to see a flurry of robes trying in vain to hide. He smirked and the other glared back.

Maybe they hadn't grown up that much. But these little power plays were needed, Harry thought. It was part of their charming relationship.

"I don't understand at all." Harry groaned, clutching his hair. He looked down at the text and began reading the paragraph again.

Beside him his study partner sighed, "Potter, your brain is the size of a peanut."

Harry grinned—it seemed that he couldn't stop grinning whenever Malfoy was around, it was a strange disease. "Look at that, I'm rubbing off on you."

The aristocratic snobby face crumpled as Malfoy snorted, "Rub off? I would never let you rub off on me."

Harry snickered.

"Head out of the cauldron." Malfoy snapped, "And with you as a partner, I'm going to fail this project." He was close to pouting, Harry could tell. And Draco knew that Potter knew so he turned away from those knowing green eyes.

A few minutes later, Harry threw his quill across the table, making Malfoy raise his browss at the childish behavior.

"Fine, I'll explain." Malfoy grumbled, "Pay careful attention."

Harry turned to face Malfoy—who was quickly becoming Draco in his mind—and smiled, "Yes, Professor."

"mmm—ahh—Professor Malfoy." The lips under him moaned and chanted, "more—nggh—more!"

"Yes, yes." Draco replied, his voice strained and husky, "Har—"

Draco woke up, soaked with sweat. He looked down at his erection which stood proud, as if mocking him. He glared at it, alas it didn't deflate. Potter? Potter? Come on, he was not so desperate that he was lusting after Potter!

'It's Harry.' His mind whispered to him, 'and he is out first choice, our only choice. To have him would be..'

"A miracle." Draco said out loud. As his voice echoed in the dungeon room he was instantly glad that as a eighth year student, he had his own room, and a private bathroom too.

He considered a cold shower, beating his desire to submission. But his mind conjured up a image of smoky green eyes, taut golden skin that stretched into infinity and panting lips that formed a smile—a smile that never failed to infuriate him, the same one which made him want to beat the golden boy up and at the same time hold him close, hiding him from the world—which brought forth a desire so strong that he thought for a moment that he could lie with just the desire, just the dreams. But then, he acutely felt the chilly dampness of the dungeons and the empty place on his huge bed and his slytherin mind promptly started to plan how to properly seduce his Potter.

**Rant: Well…I'm speech less..it's like someone silenced me…**

**p.s. Review!**

**p.p.s. That is a threat. If you don't review….I will never give Draco any satisfaction. *smirks***

**Harry: But I'm the one suffering here! This is so not fair.**


	4. theboywhoDracowantstoseenaked

**Disclaimer: Do not own anything.**

**Chapter 3: The-boy-who-is hyphenated-a-lot-is-half-naked-which-Draco-want-to-see**

Potter is cute.

That was the statement that turned Draco's life upside down. And Pansy Parkinson, his best friend, had uttered it.

And now everywhere he went, he saw Potter and realized just how cute he really was. What with him tripping this way and that and smiling away at the world.

Then Draco became paranoid. How many other people found his Potter cute? Or hot? Or sexy? Or handsome? Or pretty? Or rather beautiful? How many other people had inappropriate dreams plaguing them—most focused on what one could possibly do to Potter to make that keening noise again?

He turned to Pansy and gritted out, "He's just Potter."

"Yes," She said condescendingly, as if he was blind, "but look at how he smiles now. Like nothing could take away his happiness. He hasn't smiled like that in the past at all. Even when he was with his Gryffindorks, there was always a park of him holding out; you could see the strain in his movements."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "You sound as if you have been observing him quite a bit."

'She's a threat!' was a scream echoing in his head.

She was not fazed by the look he was sending her way, "There was no way I couldn't." She muttered before walking into the girls' dorm.

And Draco was left wondering what she meant.

"Guess what I saw?" Blaise sing-songed, "Or rather who?"

"What?" Pansy and Draco asked simultaneously as their kept their eyes on the chess board, where all sorts of destruction was taking place.

"Three words: Potter, swimming, half-naked."

"What?" Draco nearly yelled at the same time Pansy said, "Do you think he would swim with a shirt on?"

Draco trained his eyes on Blaise, asking for answers, "Why would he be swimming?"

"Uhh…because he wants to?" was the answer from Pansy.

"Do you think that's actually four words? Is half-naked two words if there is a hyphen—" The dark-haired boy watched in amusement as his best-mate zoomed to the window overlooking the lake.

"He's not there." Draco almost whined.

Pansy sighed, "Draco, Harry is not trying to show you up by going swimming."

"It's Harry now?" Blaise spoke up, taking up the game that Draco had abandoned.

"He's tutoring me." She giggled, "And he has a nice body."

"Why?" Draco asked and when she stared at him, he continued, "I could have helped or Blaise could have!"

Blaise narrowed his eyes, "Why do you care so much, Drake?"

"I do not!" came the hot denial.

As Blaise continued to grin, which was so wrong because Slytherins don't grin except in malice, Pansy interrupted upcoming Draco's lecture on conduct.

"In Rituals?"

"Potter's taking Rituals?" Draco seemed stunned to know that he didn't know that.

"Yes and he's quite good." She replied before getting up, "I have another session with him in a few minutes." She squealed, "He's going to be all wet from his swim and imagine his hair. Oh Merlin!"

"Pansy." Harry greeted her with a smile, which she returned tenfold. Then, he turned to her companion, "Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Now he was confused.

All he got was a grunt in answer.

Harry watched as the two took a seat. Pansy was smiling softly at him while Draco was glaring-no-so-softly at him. He tried to ignore the relentless stare the blond was sending his way and turned his attention on Pansy who was taking out her notes.

"Alright, where were we last time?"

"I actually read over the history; very interesting by the way. But I just don't understand anything Professor Jenkins is trying to explain in class. That woman-" It was clear that she hated Jenkins with fervor and most of the time she ranted about the Professor's fall backs to Harry.

Harry chuckled, "Pans, if you would listen to the prof instead of zoning off and daydreaming."

"I can't believe this, I'm the one zoning out? You never pay attention in class, why are you even passing?"

Harry shot her a smirk, "I'm a natural."

Harry heard a quiet snort emit from Draco and looked up to see the challenge in his eyes. He had the itch to say something—oh well; he could scratch it when he got back to his rooms.

He turned away to look down at the books and pretended like he could completely ignore Draco, "Okay, so the basic premise of ritual is letting go. If you don't surrender to the ritual, surely wanting whatever you are asking of the ritual, then it won't work. Or your unsure feelings will botch up the ritual and create unwanted consequences."

"So, like a sacrifice?" Pansy asked, her quill working on the parchment.

Harry continued, "If you want to view it as such, sure a sacrifice. In a sacrifice, you have to be willing to give up something. But I would say it's more of a self-sacrifice. Basically, you have to be sure of mind and heart. You have no place to waver or think about other options."

He fell silent for a moment and felt the pair of eyes staring at him, studying him. But it didn't matter. He was back in the forest and he was willing to die, so sure that the day was his last, and in he went, into the—

"Harry?"

"Yea, sorry. I was…thinking."

The two shivered and Harry pretended not to notice.

"Pansy, I'm going to tell you something. You are not going to be very good at rituals at all."

She startled, "Why?"She was already looking at her choices, ready to strike.

"You could never stop looking for a way out." She started to say something but he kept going, "I know it is your way; you were taught from the beginning of your life to be a—a…" He faltered.

"A Slytherin." She provided.

She nodded. She had calmed her anger dissipating. "Yes, a Slytherin and you excel at it." She smiled at this.

"Anyway, it has become a ritual for you, a habit to act this way in any situation." He laughed at his words and she, catching on laughed along to. Draco stared at him, as if there was no one else, as if there was nothing else.

Harry quivered inside, he felt like he was floating. When would he hit the ceiling?

"I can change my ways. I am not a stiff clay that will break at a change in design."

Harry had to smile at her determination, "I know, or I wouldn't have tried to help you."

She brightened and he spoke again, "Let's move on to today's lecture. The symbols carved represent…"

Draco stared on, not able to move or say anything. Potter acted so different, so much more different than the way Potter acted towards Draco. There was none of that barb; just soft smiles and wet fringe as his bright as death eyes glowed as he spoke, his hands gesturing trying to convey his words, his feelings, his self.

He stared on as his Potter pretended no to notice his presence. It irked him.

**This is a reminder to all: Review!**

**p.s. You wonder why there has been no moans and groans—well, you know what to do ;)**


	5. the hat with no name

**Disclaimer: do not own *sad face***

**A/N: I know it is short..I'm lazy**

**Chapter 4: The-hat-which-doesn't-have-a-name-yet**

Draco looked at the hat, the ridiculous pointy hat which had possibly on many occasions tried to ruin his life. It was cone shaped and reached right towards the ceiling. It was black and had purple stars and hearts sweeping across it. It was utterly ridiculous; why he kept the thing, he didn't even know.

His hands began reaching for it and he barely stopped himself. No, that was too close. No, he would definitely not put it on. He wouldn't give Potter the satisfaction.

As long as he didn't put the hat on his head, he wasn't officialy thinking about Potter; sure there were those stary thoughts but those didn't count. As long as the hat stayed in its box, Potter stayed out of his mind; no more plaguing for Potty-head.

He wished to grab it and put it on his head so he could have blissful thoughts ….but he pushed away from the temptation. Once on his head, it would cause chaos—planting ideas into his head, making him obsessive over Potter.

He gulped, there wasn't enough air. He shut the box and pushed it away.

He had triumphed.

**HPHPHP**

Draco, Pansy, and Blaise sat on a piece of the castle grounds they had claimed as their own. As they were behind the biggest tree on the ground, they were hidden; not to mention all the spells and charms they had layered over the years to hide it from eyes.

Their eyes looked up from their respective books—or magazines—as they heard footsteps crunching on the fallen leaves and the quiet murmur of two voices—one male and the other female.

"I'm telling you 'Mione, it's true." The voice was obnoxious; and they knew by experience that the entire person was also.

The three shared a look, if Weasley , then also Granger. They were proven right when a thoughtful voice sounded, "I'm sure you are right, at least on this occasion. I've been much too focused on my studies to notice it but now that I look back on it, it is so obvious…Harry has a crush! " Why did Draco feel the need to crush this crush?

Weasely laughed. "Yea, he's so love-sick."

"Who could it be?"Granger asked.

"I know you haven't noticed the letters too. I asked a few times but he keeps changing the subject. Keeps on saying that we'll find out in time."

The brown-haired witch giggled, "I'm he's happy. He deserves it."

The three made a face as they heard sounds of lips smacking and clothes rustling. They were making out. There were whispers before the two walked away in a hurry.

Thank the Gods, thought Draco. He didn't want to be anywhere near when—at his thoughts, he shivered visibly, his disgust written on his face.

"So, Potter has a lover." Blaise said while he flipped the page of his magazine.

And with that statement Draco started down the path of becoming a madman.

**Review Man, review Man, where have you been?**

**Review Man, Review Man, is going to haunt your sleep!**

**(Just like Draco is being haunted by Harry!—well, maybe not exactly like how…you get the idea)**


	6. In which Malfoy is a prat

**Disclaimer: I disclaim! I disclaim! Let me go!**

**A/N: "Fools are those falling in love, wise are those who stay in love." I'd like to say that I came up with that myself…but…I probably heard it somewhere…so yea.**

**Chapter 5: In which Malfoy is a Prat!**

Harry didn't know why but Malfoy was acting more git-like than before. Everywhere Harry was, Draco would be there, taunting and belittling him. No hexes were exchanged nor any curses came his way but damn that mouth of his that never stopped running. And all Harry could do was—all Harry could barely force himself to do was—to ignore the trash talk that encompassed his looks to his friends to his parents to his ancestry to his future children.

Draco would sneer and rattle out of some insults, Harry would stop and listen to him most cordially, and when Draco was done with his newest speech on all of Harry's faults, Harry would smile at him and walk away. The only reason he hadn't yelled back or started firing all the curses he knew one by one at the part was because he could see that his reaction—or the lack thereof—was pushing the blond's buttons and frustrating him to bits. But that was the only highlight of his day; thinking about how Draco was probably more miserable than him—and he didn't have to do anything; the brat was making himself miserable.

Harry had to wonder though, what had gone wrong. They were fine, weren't they? Almost friends. Sure, they had bantered a bit but nothing this vengeful.

As Harry sat in his beautiful chair, stroking the soft hand rest, he thought, _Why are you so bent on hurting me Draco?_

He was snapped out of his maudlin mood when he noticed Hermione looking at him—or more accurately, his chair—and gave her a smirk before getting off and banishing it.

She would never touch his precious again!

"Blaise, you've been spreading rumors again." Green eyes chastised.

"Did I?" the answer was flippant. Blaise Zabini with his chocolate skin lay back against the cold stone wall of the castle.

"I can't go swimming anymore. There are gaggles of girls waiting by the shore at all times." The lips wore a pout that Blaise couldn't see. He looked out of the window which was connected to the small alcove and smirked. The weather was quite nice for an October.

"You forget the blokes, Harry." Blaise turned to where the voice was coming from and smiled sweetly (too sweetly), "And stop hiding."

"I'm hiding from Malfoy."

Harry watched as Blaise laughed—letting go of the blank mask he wore at most times, "Giving you trouble is he?"

Harry's eyes lit up, "Do you know why?"

The Slytherin answered with his own question, "Did you know that you have a boyfriend?" Blaise hadn't been pleased when he heard the other two-thirds of the golden trio discussing it. The question, _why hadn't Harry told him_, had come to mind but now that he thought about it, why did Harry tell him anything at all?

"I do?" He could tell that Harry was genuinely confused despite not being able to see his face. "How come you know but I don't?"

Blaise sighed, "So you don't?"

"I may or may not have a crush." Blaise could finally see the messy hair and most importantly the sparkle in the green eyes as Harry took off the shimmery cloak and he couldn't help but grin back.

"But no lover? What about the letters?"

"Letters? How do you-? Never mind, why do I even bother asking about the no secret policy in Hogwarts? Anyway, no lovers and the letters are statements of my finances from Gringotts—hardly romantic they are. "

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. It's tragic really. Now that I am seventeen, I'm expected to do so many stuff, fulfill so many Potter family and Black family responsibilities….but I rather think I wouldn't mind having a boyfriend." There was a look in his eyes, a thirst, that Blaise…

Blaise got up hurriedly, and then looked down at the boy-man who was starting to make his cock throb by just smiling. This was bad. Potter belonged to Draco; that much Draco had made clear— though tantrums and longing eyes, through insults and all the proverbial hair pulling (Merlin, that boy didn't know how to treat a crush). But he couldn't stay away from this strange friendship they had stuck.

"Why are you telling me this?"

The green eyes looked at him, pinning him to the spot yet not seeing him at all, "Because you asked."

"You didn't have to answer. You didn't have to tell me more than absolute necessary." _Or nothing at all, _went unsaid. What were they, exactly? Friends, yes, maybe...But Potter, Potter seemed to tell him everything, without hesitance. And Blaise, Blaise like hearing those words and…keeping those secrets.

Harry got up from the grass and put on his invisibility cloak again, "I know I can trust you to keep the important parts to yourself."

With a flash of a smile, the cloak flowed over Harry's body and then his face, rendering him invisible to Blaise's eyes. And no matter how long he waited Blaise couldn't be sure if the other had left or not.

When had he become Potter's confidant?

**HPDMHPDMHPDM**

Draco didn't like the smile on Blaise sent Potter's way, as if they were sharing secrets.

No, siree.

He also didn't like the way Pansy gently handled her Rituals textbook.

He particularly didn't like the way Granger would fix Harry's tie.

He very much didn't like how one Ronald Weasley had his arm around his Harry's shoulder.

He didn't like the way Weasel-girl simpered at his Potter.

Not at all.

He quite hated the way Loony played with Potter's hair and had the guts to look straight at Draco and smile. (Was that a challenge?)

And He absolutely hated the way Potter's face glowed this morning, as if he had had the best shag of his life. (Damn it, he should not be glowing like that if Draco hadn't been in the same bed as him!)

**Draco-is-an-idiot-page-break**

They were in transfiguration class, which since McGonagall didn't teach anymore was less stressing to their lives. Harry was sitting beside Draco, who was valiantly ignoring him; but Harry could feel the dark glare emanating from his right every time he turned away.

He turned around to face the prat, his face set in a scowl, "Alright Malfoy, mind telling me why you feel the need to glare at me night and day?"

He was promptly ignored as Draco picked up his quill and started taking notes. The blond was getting on Harry's last nerves.

Then, he came to a decision. If Malfoy wanted to act childish, then Harry was no less of an actor.

**The-hat-will-eat-you-page-break**

The Hat, he needed the hat!

He cast an _Accio_ at the box which zoomed towards him with urgency. He placed it on his table with shaking hands. He held him breath as he took in the sight of the hat with its sparkly bling blings.

It was **mocking **him!

He turned away as the box zoomed back. No, he didn't need the hat, not at all.

**Make me happy and review!**

**Else the hat will eat you!**


	7. Whendidthishappen?

**Disclaimer: see other chapters!**

**Chapter 6: When-could-this-have-happened?**

Draco watched carefully, sneakily even, as Potter walked in to the Magic History classroom. Would Potter sit beside him today also?He hoped so—not.

He tracked the golden boy's movement across the room. He was walking towards Draco, yes! He was going to pull out the chair and sit besides him-.

"Hello, Seamus." Potter smiled **that** smile, all genuine happiness.

"Arry" The name was drawled out.

Draco stiffened as Potter walked past him, taking a seat beside Finnigan.

"Drunk again, I see." He chuckled, probably sweeping his hair away from his face—but Draco couldn't see because Potter wasn't sitting beside him, the gryffindork was sitting beside Seamus Finnigan. (*snarl*)

"You know me so well, babe.."

"Really?"

"Harry, you know you are really cute.."

Every one knew that Seamus' tongue tended to run when he got drunk. He had even called Hagrid a sexy bird once, making the half-giant blush red. But that information had fled Draco's mind completely and it was no surprise—or maybe it was to poor Seamus—when the quill in from of him puked it's content on the Irishman's face and the quill burst into flames singeing his eyebrows so that they could not be found on his face.

Harry couldn't help but grin—at Seamus' fate and at Draco's ram-rod straight back which belied all the tension the blonde thought he was hiding.

Draco was in denial.

He let the hat slip on his head.

Oh bliss!

Then, he could finally be truthful—at least to himself; he could lie to others how much ever he wanted.

He found Potter attractive (attractive? How about sexy, shagabble?)

Potter's body was very appealing.

His mile was beautiful.

His eyes warm.

Potter wore his heart on his sleeves but he wore a large cloak over the robes' sleeves and protective gloves.

He looked splendid when he flew...so free, so light.

He quite failed at Potions...and looked cute failing it.

His arse was a fine artifact that Draco would love to keep in his bedroom.

He liked making others happy.

He was brave and cunning.

Not a Lion. _Draco thought_. Not a snake either.

_He grinned underneath the drooping hat._ More like a fox.

Po-Harry was smart and goofy and quite content where he was.

He had nice lips, _Draco had noticed,_which he would like to taste very much.

Oh Dear Lord! He fancied Harry James Potter.

…

…

The world could be coming to an end.

It was time.

Harry looked at himself in the mirror.

Naked. Golden tan stretched across his body, uneven by his legs. Hmm...could he fix that?

Note:Ask Hermione.

He wasn't half bad looking was he?

His father was apparently really handsome. Didn't that make him sort of handsome since he looked like his dad?

He searched his face. He had changed. From his memory, he summoned a picture of his dad and frowned. His father din't have those cheeks—all ruddy and high—nor those lips.

He smiled a little. He didn't really look like his dad. It was just the hair—which he hated and loved with fierce intensity.

Still, he was okay-looking right?

He took out the photo album and looked at his parents' pictures. He grinned—he had his mother's cheekbones.

So, if his father was really handsome. And his mother was this beautiful lady. And he was this mismatch of beautiful people...then what was the problem?

How was he not good enough for a Malfoy?

**A/N: *hangs head in shame* I'm a failure. I procrastinate. Well...here's another chapter for anyone who hasn't given up!**


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